


The Weeping; The Willows

by brucethegirl



Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a witch, Angst, Death, Drunk Driving, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted House, Horror, Hospitals, In a way, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Induced Coma, New Orleans, Urban Fantasy, Witch Akaashi Keiji, but a happy ending, but no one dies!, major character betrayal, off screen implied character death, off screen implied drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucethegirl/pseuds/brucethegirl
Summary: The supernatural is always closer than you think. Keiji Akaashi has known that his whole life. When Koutarou Bokuto comes into his French Quarter shop for an exorcism, Akaashi thinks he's prepared for what's going to come next.He is not.A ghost AU.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yachi Hitoka
Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858045
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46





	The Weeping; The Willows

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this idea was inspired by Bokuaka week, then I wrote this for Halloween. And now it's almost Christmas- and I've always wanted to bring back the tradition of telling ghost stories. 
> 
> So, with a huge HUGE thank you to Sara and Lizzy for betaing and editing and listening to me lose my mind for two months: 
> 
> Here's a ghost story.

New Orleans was hot, and not for the first time Akaashi wondered why he still lived in the godforsaken city. A soft bell jingled over the door and he called out a greeting. Then a vibration started in his body and he turned around quickly. _Magic_.

The edges of his sight went fuzzy as he walked to the front of the shop. There, outlined in the gold from the stained glass window was a tall, muscular man. He was built like a brick house, and he had a glow from within that rivaled the sun. There was something about this boy, no, he was older than Akaashi. He could sense that. But he was young in his heart. His grandmother would have called him a pure soul. Akaashi raised an eyebrow as the man’s biceps rippled on display and decided while his heart was young, and his soul was pure, his body was most certainly made for sin in the best way. 

But there was something else. It vibrated within Akaashi as though recognizing kin. _Magic_. 

He was tilting his head as he examined a small potted mugwort on display. “Can I help you?” Akaashi asked when he was right behind the man. 

The man’s bright smile shifted when he put his eyes on Akaashi and his tongue darted out across his plush lips. Maybe he wasn’t as pure a soul to begin with… 

“Sir?” Akaashi tried again and the man shook his head before digging into a pocket of his crossbody. He handed Akaashi a note with a desperate look before glancing around the shop. “ _I need an exorcism.”_

Akaashi held up the note and said in a droll voice, “you could have just asked me, you know. You didn’t have to be so secretive about it.”

The man looked around again, “I didn’t know if I would be able to.”

Akaashi snorted, “Who’d stop you? The church?” He rolled his eyes and gestured for the man to follow. “Tell me what’s happening. And your name, actually. That might come in handy.”

He cleared his throat, “Bokuto. I mean- Koutarou. Koutarou Bokuto.” He was new, still uncomfortable with western naming.

Akaashi nodded “Well, I’m Keiji Akaashi,” Bokuto perked up at the name, “and you can call me Akaashi if it makes you more comfortable.” He gestured for Bokuto to continue his story as he walked around the counter to sit at his chair. He ran his hand through his hair quickly as he looked under the counter for the correct books for reference. 

Bokuto stared for a moment and then started like he’d been shocked, “Right- well, it started when I moved here a month ago?” 

“Are you not sure when it started, or not sure when you moved in?” Akaashi didn’t bother hiding his smirk with his nose buried in the book. But then the other man fell silent, and Akaashi glanced up only to find a confused expression on his face. “Hey, it's not that big of a deal.” He said in a soothing voice. He set the book down and reached out a hand in comfort, before remembering not everyone appreciated physical touch as comfort. He pulled his hand back and rested it next to the book, leaning forward, “Sometimes stress can lead to confusion or lost time. It happens. But that does help me narrow things down,” he adds quietly, beginning to flip through his book with purpose. 

Bokuto perked up, “So you think you’ll be able to help me?”

“Not right away,” he quickly replied, wanting to set realistic expectations as soon as possible. Too many customers turned angry when they didn’t get the immediate _magic_ results they expected. And that anger fed their problems to a point that even Akaashi could no longer offer assistance. But like anything, magic takes time. He didn’t want that for this ball of boundless energy. 

Thankfully, Bokuto only nodded sagely. Akaashi smirked and turned away. He handed Bokuto a cache of repellant herbs, always his first step. If it were just a lost spirit or a weak curse, it would guide them away from the home. Bokuto lifted the small velvet bag to his nose and sniffed, Akaashi let out a huffed laugh, “Not the best idea to smell things when you don’t know what they are.” He said with a raised eyebrow. 

Bokuto slowly lowered the bag with a sheepish frown. “Yea, probably… a good idea.” He said with a small smile. A smile that warmed Akaashi’s cheeks. 

Looking away again as he pretended to organize the herbs, Akaashi elaborated, “Thankfully, that one is safe. It’s just Rosemary, Fennel, and a few Bay leaves. Just a spell for protection.” 

“Am- Am I supposed to cook it?”

Akaashi jerked around to face him, complete amusement on his face.“What? No.” He chuckled, relieved to see a smile also on Bokuto’s face. “Just, here.” He handed him a white candle.

Bokuto was quick to respond, “I own candles,” he said as though extra proud of himself. For apparently being a new transplant to the city, he knew enough to be prepared for power outages. 

Akaashi nodded, impressed, “That’s good. This isn’t like those. It’s been blessed.”

Bokuto suddenly eyes Akaashi appraisingly. “And how much does a ‘blessing’ cost?”

“Now you’re skeptical?” He shook his head as Bokuto’s face fell into an apologetic grimace, “The candle is on the house.” Akaashi said before Bokuto could speak. 

He walked around the counter to stand next to the taller man. A strong waft of something spicy and fresh, Akaashi felt his lungs fill with the scent far deeper than he’d intended. He took a quick step back, “Right, so you need to go to the center of your home, light the candle, and hold the sachet. Focus on calmness and safety, projecting the strength-“ his eyes flickered to the muscular arms but quickly back up. Thankfully Bokuto hadn’t looked away from the small bag. “Of your ownership of the house.”

Bokuto looked up, “Right, how do I do that?”

Akaashi sighed but smiled, he placed the sachet into the palm of Bokuto’s hand, then closed his fingers around it. “Take deep breaths, focus on being happy, focus on being safe in your own home. Then when you feel truly calm and peaceful, blow the candle out. Leave them both in the middle of the room and see if there’s a change.”

Akaashi didn’t focus on the way neither of them pulled their hands away from the tight grip encircling the pouch. Instead, Bokuto looked up, “so this will get rid of the problem?” he asked hopefully.

Akaashi sighed and removed his hand slowly, “Possibly.” He bit his lip and decided to be honest, “But most likely not.” Bokuto’s dark gray brows knit in confusion. Before he could ask, Akaashi explained, “I like to try out the simplest solutions first. If it's just a new ghost, or a weak curse,” Bokuto’s eyes widened at that, “then this will get rid of the problem.”

He walked back behind the counter, “Just give it a week and if nothing changes, come back.”

Bokuto nodded and fished in his pocket, but Akaashi waved him off, “I’ll provide that for free, it’s just a few herbs. I’ll live without them.” Akaashi lowered his hand, fighting an urge to keep talking, to keep this broad-shouldered dream of a man in his shop a little longer. Did he even know there was magic around him? Could Akaashi help him train? He shook his head. If he wasn’t careful he was going to create an entire fantasy that Bokuto could never live up to. Akaashi had a feeling they’d meet again in a week. He’d leave it to fate. “Come back in a week if it doesn’t work.” He reminded.

Bokuto stayed for a moment, weighing the bag in his palm before gripping it tightly. Then he said, offhandedly, “Is it weird I hope it doesn’t work?” Akaashi’s head snapped up, but he only saw the briefest, most genuine smile, before Bokuto was turning away and walking out the door. 

  
  


A week later, and Akaashi was practically bouncing on his heels, jumping to greet customers every time the bell rang. His grandmother would have long ago sent him into the yard to pick bay leaves to burn his energy off. Which is where he was, focusing on the bush, only taking the older, ready to fall leaves, when he felt that same surge through the air. The one that told him magic was near. If he walked at a slightly quicker pace than normal...well no one was there to see it. 

He practically threw the basket of leaves on a table, resigning to pick up the mess he made later, as he passed into the main room of the shop. Sure enough, standing in the perfect beam of sunlight coming through the window above the door stood Bokuto Koutarou. He was wearing the same outfit he’d worn the previous week, but Akaashi knew better than to comment on that. Especially as he was busy being grateful for the worn cotton t-shirt and the way it stretched across Bokuto’s wide chest and around his wide biceps. He didn’t dare comment on how Bokuto was wearing the same jeans that hugged thick thighs and a perfect...Waist. 

Well if Akaashi’s mind wandered to wonder if _everything_ was as thick and wide as the rest of him- that was between him and God. After a few blinks, Akaashi realized Bokuto was smiling brightly. A smile Akaashi easily returned, but not before noticing an exhausted look that hadn’t been there the previous week. 

Akaashi’s smile turned sad, “It didn’t work?”

Bokuto’s smile turned bashful, and he raised an arm to rub the back of his neck, “Maybe I just didn’t do it right?” He chuckled, “I’m not very good at the whole _calm_ thing.” 

Akaashi shook his head, “It’s not that kind of calm,” He explained, knowing immediately that Bokuto had done nothing wrong, “it’s not… ‘Buddhist monk’ calm. It’s just… A ‘not anxious’ kind of calm.” He smiled reassuringly, “You did it right, I didn’t expect it to work, honestly.” 

He gestured to the tiny closet off the main floor that Akaashi usually used for tarot readings, doubling as a space for private conversation and consultations. He lit a blue lavender-scented candle to calm and ease Bokuto’s mind. As he lit the candle he put forth energy to also allow the candle to ease Bokuto’s tongue, so the larger man was more at ease in explaining what was happening in his home. 

Akaashi had long since realized that many people were embarrassed to admit to otherworldly happenings, they thought they’d be seen as crazy. Even in an establishment such as his. His spells saved everyone a lot of time, and it also saved Akaashi from prescribing a bad spell if he didn’t fully understand a situation due to a shy customer. 

He turned around and watched Bokuto close his eyes and take a deep breath, “That smells really good.” He whispered, as though scared to raise his voice.

Matching the whispered tone, Akaashi replied, “This is the kind of calming I meant.” 

Bokuto nodded, “Oh, I see.” Akaashi could tell that he _did not_ see, but smiled at the lie. 

“Just take a few deep breaths and then start at the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?” Bokuto asked, eyes wide and almost owlish. 

Akaashi tilted his head slightly, “Of why you think your house is haunted?” He finished with a disbelieving laugh. 

Bokuto’s eyes went wide in understanding, his mouth curved into a smile, and he exclaimed, “Ah! Right!” loudly, before slapping his hand over his mouth.

Speaking at normal volume Akaashi explained, “It’s okay, this isn’t a library.” 

Sheepishly, Bokuto lowered his hand and took another deep breath, “Well, like I said last week, it started about a month ago.”

_Bokuto walked through the door, whispering an “I’m home,” to no one with a small sigh. Then he jumped, he’d sworn he’d heard a small, ‘welcome home’ from the kitchen. Maybe one of his friends had come over without telling him. Had he made plans and forgotten? He walked slowly to the kitchen, taking notice that none of the lights were on in the house. He glanced at the calendar, convinced he must have forgotten his own birthday, only to realize it was still months away. When he reached the kitchen, there was no one there to greet him. His heart sped up and his breath quickened. He must have imagined it. His own desperate loneliness or his exhaustive schedule playing tricks on him._

_CRASH_

_A plate shattered in the middle of the kitchen floor. No cabinets open, no poorly tilting drying rack. He was standing against the wall of his kitchen, then suddenly there was a plate splayed across the floor in a million pieces. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the welcome home after all._

_Once his heart slowed down and his brain started applying logic, he realized he must have not been paying as close attention as he thought he was. How else could he explain a plate appearing out of nowhere only to be smashed against the tiles? He must have been more sleep-deprived than he’d realized. He swept up the mess and threw a few corn dogs in the microwave. A quick, very unhealthy meal before an immediate night of rest._

_There could be nothing better, or more deserved._

“Do you remember how long you lived in the house before the incident in the kitchen?” Akaashi had seen hauntings cause all sorts of mental distress, including lost time. But never at the scale Bokuto was claiming. To not even be able to remember when he’d moved into his home, or even when he’d moved to an entirely new country. 

He watched Bokuto’s eyes flit a bit as he thought, watched the gray brows slowly knit together as his brain worked overtime to supply an answer that it just didn’t have.

“That’s okay, Bokuto-san. Let me ask you something else.” He trilled his fingers against the table a few times, “What day did you arrive in New Orleans?” Maybe if he asked specifics it would better jog his memory. 

“March 7, just after the Mardi Gras.” The answer was quicker than either had anticipated, Bokuto’s eyes widened as he realized how easily the answer came to him. 

Akaashi nodded, the last time Mardi Gras was so late was… “So a little over two years in the city?” Bokuto confirmed heartily. Two years, though not necessarily in the same house. He needed to ask more questions to jog Bokuto’s memory, and hopefully some more information about this specter along with it. “Are you a student, Bokuto-san?”

He nodded, then his brows knit again, and he opened his mouth a few times, “I think I am…” 

Akaashi sighed as slowly and quietly as he could. This could be the worst-case he’d ever seen. He wished his grandmother were around. “What do you study?” His attention was quickly diverted by the bright smile Bokuto suddenly gave.

“Nutrition! But I’m actually here to play Volleyball.” He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t even attempt false modesty when he said, “I’m pretty good at it.”

Akaashi smiled, “I’ll have to get tickets to a game,” If Bokuto could be so bold, so could he, “I’d like to watch you play sometime.”

Bokuto’s cheeks stained a dusty pink and his eyes widened, but his smirk was anything but embarrassed. But then he frowned, “Unfortunately, you’re too late.” It was said with a sadness that gave Akaashi a shock.

He sat forward in his chair and leaned onto the table, “What do you mean by that, Bokuto-san?” Maybe the memory loss was more than just stress, maybe something else was causing it. “Bokuto-san?” he asked again, less sure. 

But then the smile returned as though nothing had dimmed it. “I’m going pro next season. This year was my last time playing for the university.”

Akaashi made a note, it's possible he’d been approaching this the entirely wrong way. He’d have to start looking at cases of possession. He’d never dealt with any personally, but his grandmother had. Extensively. 

He put on a smile, “Well I look forward to seeing you play in the arena, then.” 

He started mentally cataloging which books he’d look through for answers when Bokuto responded with a low voice. “I look forward to you watching me.” 

Akaashi’s head snapped up. Bokuto’s lips held a perfectly lilted smirk and Akaashi added the other man’s mouth to the list of sinful things. 

Akaashi tried clearing his very dry throat and stood up, “I’m going to get some water, would you like anything?” 

Bokuto tucked his head to his chest in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his growing smile and red cheeks.“Water sounds good, I’m getting pretty thirsty myself.” His eyes met Akaashi’s through his eyelashes.

With an audible gulp, Akaashi turned to the back room and took a moment for himself. He locked eyes with his grandmother’s image above the kitchen door. It seemed smirkier than usual, and he could easily imagine that knowing glint she always had when he tried to hide something from her. “Oh don’t you start,” he grumbled as he walked back to the reading room. 

Bokuto was standing, he held a small painting in his hand. One Akaashi knew well as he had been the one who painted it. He tried to make his steps loud as he approached, but Bokuto seemed singularly drawn to the painting. “Some of the decorations are made to help put people in the right mindset,” he shrugged, “Helps with the readings if people are more open to the supernatural. Even when they don’t believe.”

Bokuto nodded, then turned to Akaashi, “I’ve seen something like this.” 

Akaashi set his bottled water down without taking a sip. He glanced at the painting to be sure, then back to Bokuto, “Are you-“

He was more adamant and took a step forward, “I’ve seen this- What is it?” He was almost desperate but was still managing to stay somewhat calm.

Akaashi pressed his palm to the other man’s shoulder and guided him to sit back down. Ignoring the tingling sensation bursting across his fingertips and up through his arm. Once Bokuto was seated, he gently took the painting out of his hand and stared at it. 

With a sigh, he sat back down across from Bokuto. “It’s a shadow person.” He said, setting the painting down. He looked up into the golden eyes that were watching his every move. “Where did you see this?” 

Bokuto thought for a minute, a very long minute as though trying to remember himself, “I- In my bedroom.” His eyes squeezed closed, he continued. “I was getting ready for bed one night. I’d turned off the light and was moving my pillow and- and the light turned on.” Akaashi watched, his own brain whirring as he tried to make sense of the story. Bokuto’s hands gripped each other tightly, his knuckles turning white, his biceps flexing, “it’s like it was looking straight at me. It could see me. I felt… sick. It hated me. I-“

He started breathing quick and shallow breaths and Akaashi reached over the table quickly to lay a hand over his fists. “Bokuto-san, deep breaths. Calm. Down.” He let his other hand wrap around the fists and suddenly, Akaashi was cradling Bokuto’s hands. His thumbs massaging them, trying to get him to relax. “You need to take deep breaths and calm down. You’re safe here. It can’t harm you.” He kept his voice soft, but incessant. 

Slowly, with eyes focused on their hands, Bokuto’s breathing calmed. Once he became aware of his surroundings again he pulled his hands back with a strangled gurgle from his throat, “Sorry!” His face was red as a cherry and Akaashi smiled as he slowly slid his hands back across the table to wrap around his bottle of water. “Sorry” Bokuto said again, whispering. 

“It’s okay. Take your time. This is hard for most people.”

Bokuto’s eyes flitted to the painting on the table between them. “Did you draw that?”

Shocked by the sudden change in conversation, Akaashi’s eyes widened, he blinked as he realized what Bokuto was referring to. “Ah, yes. I did.” He picked it up gingerly, a small smile as he remembered that afternoon in his grandmother’s garage as she meditated. “When I was a kid.”

Bokuto blanched. “You saw them when you were a kid?” He didn’t exactly express pity, but Akaashi gave an indulgent smile nonetheless. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things since I was a kid, Bokuto-san.” He explained before waving his hand through the air in an explanatory way, “Magic, remember?” 

There was sadness when Bokuto nodded, “Right, magic.”

“I’ve grown used to it, Bokuto-san. This is my life, and it always has been.” He gathered ingredients, “But it doesn’t have to be yours.” He sat down in front of the larger man and splayed everything out. “I believe you’re dealing with a poltergeist.” He said calmly. 

“Like- the movie?” He asked, hesitantly eying over all of the supplies in front of him. He nodded slowly as he came to terms with it. A surprisingly short adjustment period. “That makes sense.”

“It- It does?” Akaashi asked, sitting back in shock. 

“I mean, especially after the TV. I started trying to do my own research”

Akaashi wracked his brain for a memory of a TV, but Bokuto had mentioned nothing. “The TV?” 

“Oh- yea, the TV.” When Bokuto didn’t elaborate, Akaashi waved his hand in a universal _explain, please_ motion. Bokuto perked up, “Right, the TV. It turned itself on and stuff.”

“That’s it?” Sure electricity manipulation was within a poltergeist’s repertoire. But it could easily be explained with faulty wiring or accidentally sitting on the remote. Of the list of things he’d been told by Bokuto, the TV was the least concerning. Though maybe there was more to it. 

“Well, it changes channels, too. I feel like I’m fighting with the ghost to watch our favorite shows or something.” He scratched his head, “It really likes those unsolved true crime documentaries.” 

Akaashi chuckled at that, “Maybe it was murdered.”

Bokuto gasped and for a second, Akaashi was afraid his joke was too dark for the excitable man. But then Bokuto leaned across the table, “Maybe it's giving me hints to solve its death!” 

Akaashi gave a full smile, then tilted his head, “Anything is possible, I guess.” 

They sat in silence for another moment, and Akaashi could tell there was something else on his mind, so gave him a few moments to speak it. Finally, in a much quieter voice, he said, “Thank you for believing me. I know it’s… kind of your job. And you don’t have to believe me to sell me things to fix it. But, I get the feeling you really believe me. You do, don’t you?”

The way his shoulders were dropped, and his chin was tucked as he looked up bashfully, Akaashi would have said anything to bring back the high spirits that had filled the room only moments before. Thankfully, Akaashi didn’t have to lie as he said, gently, “I believe you, Bokuto-san.”

They were both quiet as soft smiles fell on their lips, so easy and comfortable. Then Bokuto seemed to remember himself and looked away. “Right, so how much will this all cost?”

“Right,” Akaashi also avoided eye contact as he walked to the counter in the other room, Bokuto following. As he added the cost of everything, Akaashi had an inexplicable urge to offer it all for free. An insane thought that he shook away. When Bokuto handed him the credit card to pay, nodding solemnly as he accepted the cost, Akaashi let their fingers brush, for only a moment. 

Then the card machine beeped. And beeped again. The Akaashi tried entering the code manually. Then it beeped again. Bokuto turned red, “I’m sorry- I don’t understand. I’m a responsible adult, I swear!”

Akaashi shook his head slowly as he examined the card, “no, it’s not that, it's not even trying to run the card. It’s just rejecting it.” He tried swiping one more time, _beep_. “I’m so sorry, it’s never done this before.” He handed the card back.

Bokuto was already digging in his wallet, “I don’t…” He slowly lowered the wallet, “I don’t have any cash on me.” He eyed the bag and candles like a lifeline on a sinking ship. 

The urge to offer them for free came back and Akaashi sighed, “we’ll say it’s just my own curiosity.” He nodded to the handful of items, “call it intuition but I don’t think they’ll work anyway.”

Bokuto looked at him, then the items, then back. A glimmer of hope shining in his eyes, “What should I do if they don’t work?” He hadn’t made a move toward them. 

“I put a lot of faith in what I sell, I think they’ll help. So just make sure you bring cash next time or this will get awkward.” He smirked. 

Bokuto swallowed soundly, the blush returned to his cheeks, across his nose, and spread to the tips of his ears. _Gorgeous_. 

“What will you do? Wh-If I have to come back?” 

Akaashi tried to hide the smile at the tone in Bokuto’s voice. As though he were _hoping_ the remedy failed. “I’ll make an appointment to visit your house. Fully assess the situation. And hopefully, cleanse it.” He showed his smile as he handed Bokuto the bag of items, “But we’ll go over the details next time.”

Bokuto started, he didn’t even try to hide the tilt of his lips. Akaashi returned the small smile. 

After the brightness that was Bokuto’s presence, Akaashi found the remainder of his day lackluster and dragging. The days that followed had Akaashi watching the door, from the corner of his eye and anxiously waiting for that familiar pull of _other_ of _kin_. 

Of _magic._

But after a week, it never came. 

When it finally did, during a typical afternoon downpour, Akaashi felt something in him lift before he even heard the door shut. 

The morning had started thick and heavy, as it usually did in the southern summer. The moisture held in the air burst shortly after lunch sending throngs of unfamiliar tourists running across the glistening cobblestones in front of his shop. He watched them and sighed when it became clear none of them would be seeking shelter through his door before he moved to the backroom to organize with his newfound free time. 

Then it came, whispered through the leaves of every plant and tree in his shop. Across the statues and against the flames burning for lost souls. _Magic_. 

He stood straight and followed the pull like he was on a string. To the front door, to Bokuto. He stood, not a drop of rain on him, in the single ray of light that broke through the gray clouds. But as soon as Akaashi stepped into the main shop, the clouds shifted and the sunlight was gone. However, for that moment, Bokuto had looked ethereal. Akaashi blinked, hoping the moment could be recreated. 

Then the other man smiled in recognition, and Akaashi was blinded yet again. Akaashi nodded and started to walk towards him. Bokuto’s smile shifted to a smirk as he looked down on Akaashi’s figure. A blush settled unwittingly on Akaashi’s skin as he glanced down, then he noticed the elephant palm he’d carried out to the front of the shop, trailing dirt from the drain at the bottom along the way. “Oh, shit-“ he hurried back to the storeroom and set the pot onto its drainage dish with Bokuto’s laughter following him. 

He walked back out, wiping his hands on his jeans as he greeted his customer, “So I take it they didn’t work?”

Bokuto shook his head, his smile fading at the change in subject, but not completely disappearing. 

Akaashi nodded and after a pause gestured to the reading room so they could both sit down. “What happened?”

Bokuto sighed a deep heavy sigh that expanded his whole chest in a very pleasant way. Akaashi quickly glanced at his hands as Bokuto said, “I think something called my name.” 

“You think?”

“I guess it's one of those things, you’re sure of it at the moment, but the more time passes the more you doubt what happened?” Bokuto replied.

Akaashi nodded, he’d heard many accounts explain the same sensation. A way to keep sane at a time with no rational explanation. “Wait-“ he held his hand out to pause Bokuto who took another deep breath to continue. Bokuto froze, the breath held, “how much time has passed since this happened?”

“Since the first time?” Akaashi’s eyes widened but he nodded, “About a week?”

“A wee- Why did you wait a week?” He shouted. It was Bokuto’s turn to dance away. He shrugged his shoulders in an almost helpless way, and Akaashi felt shame wash over him. Akaashi closed his eyes and said, “I’m sorry- I’m just.” He didn’t want to put words to what he felt. Maybe Bokuto had been wanting to avoid him. Maybe offering that second batch of cleansing tools had been too much, and Bokuto had felt uncomfortable coming back. He shook his head, he was here now, “Continue,” he said in a smaller voice. 

Bokuto was silent, and finally, Akaashi had to look at him to make sure he was even still there. It was like his gaze broke a spell because at that moment Bokuto said, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Akaashi gave a breathy chuckle, “This is my _job._ And besides, you could never bother me.” He said soothingly. 

Bokuto’s head snapped up, eyes wide and glittering. Then he looked away, tucking his chin, “You say that now,” he mumbled in a self-deprecating voice. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered, more shocked than an attempt to get the older man’s attention. They shared a heavy look before Akaashi cleared his throat and continued, “Anything else? Or just the name-calling?”

“Well- it didn’t insult me,” Bokuto teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. It worked, Akaashi’s stoic expression splitting for a moment before he regained control of himself. 

“Was that it though? How many times did it happen?”

“It was just a couple of times,” Bokuto sat back as he thought, his brow creasing, “Maybe three times?”

“That’s a lot of times for a spirit to manifest its voice. And to _know_ your name. Did it say anything else?”

Bokuto shook his head, “No, it just said it… like a question? Like it was asking me for something? It was strange.” He scratched at his chin as a thought occurred to him, “It sounded Japanese, though.”

Akaashi blinked, “Japanese names tend to do that.”

Bokuto shook his head, unfazed, “No, how it pronounced it. And one time it added ‘-san.’” He shook his head, then looked through his lashes at Akaashi, as though debating if he should say what he wanted to. 

Akaashi leaned forward, “If there’s something else, you need to tell me. Anything can help.”

Bokuto sighed again and rested his elbows on the table, it shifted against his weight. “I think it was two voices. A man, and a girl. The girl is the one who said ‘Bokuto-san.’”

Akaashi felt a chill down his back. That was not good at all. He trilled his fingers against the table a few times. He would have to go to Bokuto’s home and investigate this himself. There was no other option at this point. Not if it was starting to manifest strong enough for him to distinguish accent and different voices. 

That was the other thing that worried him. All signs were pointing to a poltergeist, and if it was already mimicking voices, it was much farther advanced than he’d anticipated.

However, it wasn’t the right time. The moon, his energy, the rain, everything was the _least_ opportune time for him to investigate a haunting, and even less opportune for him to do a blessing. Deciding it best to bite the bullet and at least give Bokuto _some_ hope, he said, “I have good news and bad news.” 

Bokuto instantly perked up, “Bad news first, that way I can get excited again for the good news.”

“I-“ Akaashi blinked once. Twice. “Okay.” He sighed and pushed back from the table, “The bad news is I won’t be able to do anything right away, but I’ll keep an eye out for when I can.” Bokuto tilted his head but didn’t say anything, allowing Akaashi to finish with the good news. “The good news is I’m going to try to cleanse your house. I think it's the only option at this point.”

Bokuto’s smile seemed to burst at the seams as he leaped out of his chair and leaned across the table, “You’re serious.” He said, rather than asked, “You’ll really come over? Oh man, I’m going to have to clean, and buy something to put on the walls.” 

Akaashi chuckled and held up his hands, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it, there’s a lot of factors involved. It could be a while.” He took a mental step back, “And really it's just to cleanse the spirits, you don’t need to do all that. Not for this.”

Bokuto just smiled in response and Akaashi rolled his eyes. 

“Hey-“ Bokuto interjected suddenly “What do you think set it off?” He was lowering himself back into the chair. 

Akaashi sighed, “It’s hard to say, really. I would recommend keeping a journal until I can come by. Keep track of what’s happening before the activity starts and all that. Could be something as simple as ``it doesn’t like beer.” He said lightheartedly. 

Bokuto blinked as though the idea shocked him, “What should I do if it doesn’t like beer?”

Akaashi smirked, unsure if the other man was joking or not, and not wanting to offend him, “Drink somewhere else.”

Bokuto nodded then leaned across the table, “Do you have any suggestions?” The air was still light-hearted and breezy, but there was a shift in his eyes as he watched Akaashi. 

“Depends how much you’re willing to spend.” Akaashi felt himself lean forward as opposed to a conscious movement. 

“What are drinks going for these days?”

“I’m not sure, guess we’ll have to find out.”

Bokuto smiled wide, then glanced away as pink spread across his entire face, Akaashi’s own smile softened. “I’m sorry,” the bigger man said, leaning back into his seat, “I’m not usually so… forward. There’s just,” He paused and seemed to consider Akaashi, then shook his head.

Akaashi knew what he meant. He’d probably never met someone else with a touch of magic in them. That recognition always manifests itself in different ways. For Bokuto, it seemed that recognition was in the form of… Akaashi cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when you’re being too forward, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto caught his eyes, a question hovering before being said, “You’re not being too forward.”

Bokuto smiled and looked away. Then he shrugged and turned back, as though a new determination had overcome him. “Well, what are you doing now?”

Akaashi tilted his head, “Working? And besides, it’s only three in the afternoon!” He said with a laugh. 

Bokuto leaned back in his chair, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about living here, it’s that the time doesn’t really matter when it comes to a good drink.” He smiled, knowing he’d won without Akaashi even having to say anything. 

But he was still hesitant. Even as he weighed the thought of closing early for the day. “We shouldn’t do this, you’re a client.” Even as he stood from the table, he gripped the back of the chair as though to keep some semblance of sanity. Going on a date with a client was the _worst_ idea he’d had in a long time. 

Bokuto stood as well, but he leaned one hand on the table, and let his face hover inches from Akaashi’s. “I never paid for anything.”

Akaashi held his breath for a moment, afraid to break the spell that had settled over the two of them. As soon as he released it, he heard the door close and heavy stomps as someone kicked their feet on the mat to dry them. 

Bokuto’s eyes closed slowly and stayed that way, his face hard in a way he’d never seen. Frustration emanating in waves off of him, his jaw set, and Akaashi was able to stare for a moment too long. He let out another slow breath, this time in an effort to calm his slamming heart. Bokuto opened his eyes and smiled, “I guess I’ll have to take a rain check.”

Akaashi nodded, his expression as composed as possible as he felt the tingling warmth spread across his cheeks up to his hairline and down to his chest. Even after Bokuto leaned back and walked away, Akaashi kept staring straight ahead. Even after the door closed and the new customer asked for the price of something, he continued to stare. He gulped. He turned towards the young couple in the doorway to the reading room. Maybe his grandmother was wrong about hate being too strong an emotion to harness. 

A few days later, Akaashi felt a shift in the air. He called Bokuto. The call went straight to voicemail and he left a message. The next day he left another message. By the third day, he was beginning to wonder if Bokuto had regretted asking him out, because he was regretting accepting it if it meant being avoided like this. Also, the knowledge that there was likely a poltergeist in someone’s home and it would remain there because Akaashi couldn’t keep it in his pants was worrying him. He’d never been so reckless before, how had he allowed himself to become involved with a client like that? Bokuto didn’t deserve the hell that was living with a poltergeist, certainly not because of Akaashi’s unprofessional-

“Ghashi! Hey, hey, hey!” 

Akaashi blinked. Then smiled. “Bokuto-san. I’m not used to Japanese speakers mutilating my name, but there’s a first for everything.” Bokuto huffed, but his good mood remained. “You didn’t have to come to the shop to arrange the appointment, you know?” Bokuto tilted his head in confusion. “I called you, a few times?” Akaashi prompted. Maybe a few times too many, if he were being honest.

“Oh, sorry- my phone’s been on the fritz. I’ve just learned to live with it really.” He smiled at Akaashi’s shock. “I know right, but you’d be surprised how freeing it is. Like being a kid again!”

Akaashi doubted Bokuto needed help in that department but nodded in understanding anyway. “Well, I think I could come by to cleanse the house sometime this weekend.”

“Oh! Did the spirits approve of it?” Akaashi waited for a chuckle, but Bokuto was serious. 

“That’s… not really how it works-“ He sighed, “but basically, yes.”

“That’s great!” Bokuto’s eyes widened, his mouth widened, his cheeks widened. He spread his arms wide. Bokuto’s excitement was akin to a bear rising on hind legs to appear intimidating. Joy was Bokuto’s intimidation technique, weakening all who stood in his way. Weakening Akaashi into a small smile. 

“Wait- if you didn’t know about the messages, why did you come here?” The smile fell and Akaashi wanted to rip his own voice from his body. “I don’t mind it!” He quickly recovered. “But if there’s a reason…?” He trailed off. “It’s- okay if there isn’t one, too.” He trailed off again, averting his eyes to flip pages in his ledger, not reading a thing. 

The smile was back when his eyes flickered up in apprehension. “That’s good to know,” Bokuto said in a soft voice. “But unfortunately,” he said with a big sigh, “there was a lot of door slamming last night. I mean, I thought my neighbors were going to call the cops on me or something.” He looked down, “Not that I would have minded, in all honesty. I didn’t get any sleep. It’s amazing how something so stupid can be so terrifying.” He admitted.

Akaashi watched him, jaw slacked. “Tomorrow, I can come tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?” The sooner he cleared the house, the sooner he’d be able to rid the guilt of wanting to see a client. With that free admission, Akaashi very much wanted to see Bokuto outside of a work setting. Preferably in a home setting, maybe on a bed. 

Akaashi cleared his throat and Bokuto exclaimed, “Tomorrow would be perfect!” 

The address Bokuto had given him had been familiar. But Akaashi had brushed it off as a familiarity with the local suburbs. Stepping out of his car, into the thick morning heat, Akaashi felt cold. The address was familiar for an entirely different reason. A reason he tried to ignore even as his feet led him to the front door. 

_“Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Akaashi.” Akaashi tried to not smile, the girl was probably barely younger than him, but she was clearly nervous so he reined it in and gave a bow as he toed off his shoes in the foyer._

_“How long have you been having issues?” He gave a look around the kitchen, “You hadn’t been very specific on the phone.”_

_A tall man came in from the living room, bowed then shook his hand. “That’s because there hasn’t really been any.” He seemed amused, but still on edge._ The denier _Akaashi assessed. He put a hand on the woman’s shoulder as she introduced him._

_“My boyfriend, Kuroo Tetsurou. He was against this at first-“_

_“Because there’s nothing here.” He said with an indulgent smile._

_Akaashi couldn’t help but also smile at the couple. Clearly in love._

_Then a sadness crept in. “To be honest, it’s more reactionary than anything. You see, this was my friend’s apartment. And he…” the man trailed off, and the woman tightened her small fingers around his and finished the thought._

_“He was in an accident, and we’d been looking for a place. And I just… I feel predatory, taking it under the circumstances.”_

_The man sighed, “I told you, it's not like he’d be using it.”_

_“Yea, yea. And knowing Kou, he’d want us to have it. I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right, though.” Their conversation was whispered, and Akaashi averted his eyes pretending to take in the kitchen. New countertops and modern flooring that didn’t match the early 70s exterior of the duplex. A lot of love and dreams went into the place, and he could tell it wasn’t from the two in front of him. There was something decidedly more masculine about the interior choices._

_“So there hasn’t been anything, in particular, that’s happened?”_

_The man sighed, but the woman twisted her shoulder blonde hair around her fingers, “Just a few… strange things. Like creaking floors and the like.”_

_“The place was built in the 70s, and we have upstairs neighbors, Hitoka. It’s going to creak.” The man said, chuckling. His previous melancholy was quickly averted by his girlfriend. Even Akaashi found himself smiling. She seemed the type to be overly worried about small things, he felt a kindred soul in her._

_“You’re never here by yourself, Tetsu. You’re in the lab, and I’m stuck here with the silence.” Then in a smaller voice, “It shouldn’t be so silent here.”_

_Akaashi had to put them at ease with his presence, have them be willing to open up to him so he could do what needed to be done for a blessing. “Are you a scientist, Mr. Kuroo?” No better way than to have them talk about themselves._

_“Tetsurou is fine, and, no. Just a student right now.”_

_Hitoka said, slyly nudging him with her shoulder, “Ask him what he studies.”_

_“What do you study?”_

_With a good-natured roll of his eyes at his girlfriend, Kuroo responded, “supramolecular chemistry.”_

_Hitoka shrugged her shoulders and placed a hand on his arm, “He does something with molecular devices, and that’s the extent of my understanding.”_

_“Well that’s more than me,” Akaashi said with a smile as he glanced around the living room._

_“Yea but it won’t be for long anyway,” She said with a kind of secret in her voice._

_Kuroo sighed and with a chuckle, pat her head, running his fingers through the strands, “Nothing’s certain yet, so stop spreading it around.” Akaashi didn’t pry when they offered no more information. He zeroed in on the display next to the sofa. He saw pictures that were full of life and adventure. Hitoka seemed to be a shutterbug as most of the photos didn’t feature her. Most were of Kuroo and different friends. He walked to a photo that drew him. A younger Kuroo and another teenage boy, both in some sports jerseys, grinning and sweating. The other boy had white and gray hair gelled up in an impressive defiance of gravity and arms as thick as tree trunks._

_“That’s Kou.” He glanced over and saw Hitoka smiling sadly at the photo, “He and Tetsu have known each other since high school. They played volleyball for different schools in Tokyo so they competed a lot. Then they both got accepted here and came together. They play for the same team, were going to…” She took the photograph and Akaashi watched her eyes begin to water as tears collected. “I just don’t want him to hate us. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to go see him, and now I’ve stolen his house like he never lived here. And Tetsu-”_

_Akaashi put his hand over hers, “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. It’s never a bad idea to do a preliminary blessing when you obtain a house following a situation like this one.” He tried to shift the conversation away from their friend’s death as quickly as possible, instead of focusing on his life. “Tell me some happy memories of your friend,” He asked as they showed him the house._

The doorbell was the same chime as it had been that day a little over a month ago _._ Bokuto had arrived just days after, confused about time and unsure how long he’d even been in the city. Akaashi sighed heavily, sadness cresting over his heart. “Well, shit,” he mumbled as the door unlocked. 

He’s expecting to come face to face with the short girl or her tall boyfriend. He already has an explanation in place. Had they experienced anything strange since his visit? A standard check-up considering his line of work. He was already taking in a breath to steady his voice as he lied through his teeth and immediately started choking on it. 

Standing in the brightly lit foyer, oversized sleeveless jersey and athletic shorts, stood Bokuto. A man that Akaashi now knew was dead. 

He forced a smile and felt his eyes widen slightly at the exposed arms, it was a tragedy in far more ways than one. But Bokuto was a lost soul. Akaashi calmed his expression and followed Bokuto into the house he was already familiar with. He was a lost soul, and he’d come to Akaashi, and that meant it was _his_ responsibility to guide Bokuto to the afterlife. Maybe his grandmother was right, and they would be able to meet again someday. 

Akaashi had no doubt that Bokuto had been a good soul, and Akaashi lived every day helping others. They were both bound to be given a next life. If his grandmother were to be believed. 

He sighed and observed the house, then felt a chill down his spine. This was wrong, very wrong. He looked back at Bokuto who gleefully put a plate in the sink, humming to himself. Akaashi was walking around a home _he already knew_. But…this was not that home. 

Bokuto had _warped_ reality around his fantasy of life, and not only that. He had managed to bring Akaashi into it. A living soul. 

There wasn’t a single trace of the cute couple in this alternate apartment beyond their brief appearance in a few picture frames. The man more often than the woman. Clearly going back years if the soft faces and less pronounced muscles of the photo next to the sofa were to be believed. 

There didn’t seem to be any weak points in this delusion. Akaashi toured the living room and kitchen, looking for a detail a little out of place or not as defined. But couldn’t find any. Even the bills on the table were recent. 

Any pocket dimension where a ghost had to pay rent was already wrong enough, but that Akaashi was able to step foot into it. He was able to walk around and feel no trace of the young couple he knew to inhabit the same space. He was engulfed by it, in the scent of Bokuto, in his energy. None of it made any sense, and yet here he was. 

“Are you thirsty?” Akaashi turned and blinked at the question, if he ate in this place would it satiate him? If he drank? Would anything that happened there be real? 

With an untouched glass of water on the table in front of him, Akaashi folded his fingers together and closed his eyes. He’d told Bokuto he had to focus on the spirits. Which meant his entire attention was focused on the man across from him. He could sense the second Bokuto started tapping his fingers against his thigh. Could hear the breath that he involuntarily took. 

Bokuto was so immersed in this reality that Akaashi could feel the weight of the inevitable on his shoulders. Let Bokuto keep his charade, and eventually grow so strong that reality forces him into a dark entity. Or break the news to Bokuto, potentially damaging his psyche and turning him into a dark entity. 

He opened his eyes and watched. Bokuto had furrowed his brows, pure concentration on his face, his eyes narrowed to a spot on the table in between them. Akaashi could imagine this was the Bokuto on the court, focused and intimidating. 

Bokuto let out a frustrated groan and Akaashi perked up. He felt a shift. The colors around him blending. The sofa changing from a warm brown to the bright yellow he remembered the first time he’d visited the address. A rushing filled his ears and his head began to pound. His hands flew to his temples in an attempt to stifle the pain. He gathered the strength to look at Bokuto who was trying to stand up, his legs unsteady as he fell back to the sofa. Then in a rush, everything stilled. The pain was gone, the sound was gone, the bright yellow was gone. 

Bokuto was rubbing his forehead and sighed. “God, that damn alarm again.”

Akaashi started. “What?” 

Bokuto looked up, for a moment he looked almost disoriented. As though he’d forgotten Akaashi was there, but in an instant, the fog cleared and Akaashi almost doubted he’d even seen it. “Is that a sign of the ghost?”

Akaashi leaned forward, pressing a hand on the table. The cold glass grounding him- in an imagined world but alas.”Is what a sign of the ghost, Bokuto-san?”

“That beeping?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “Beeping?”

“Yea, just constant _beep beep beep_ ?” he mimicked a rhythmic sound in a high falsetto that had Akaashi hiding a chuckle. “You don’t hear it? It’s been driving me crazy for _weeks_.”

“I didn’t notice it,” Akaashi said supportively. His presence was likely weakening Bokuto’s hold on his reality, allowing other noises and such to creep in. He didn’t mention his own momentary experience for fear of worrying Bokuto before he had reason to. 

Bokuto nodded, his attention clearly diverted elsewhere. “It’s probably someone’s smoke alarm. Maybe I should deliver some batteries just to keep myself sane,” he joked. Akaashi wouldn’t put it past the man he’d grown to know, to do something kind and claim it was for his own benefit. 

He smiled indulgently, ”I’m not sure how much they’d appreciate the gesture.” He said, watching Bokuto cross his arms animatedly. As though he were a performer, as though he were alive. Akaashi’s chest clenched again. This was wrong, on every single level. 

Akaashi thought back to everything he knew about ghosts. And as shocking and sudden as accidents were, they tended to be the easiest method of death to move on from. So few ghosts remained bound to the living plane from an accidental death. Something about the randomness and suddenness of it tended to make sense to the dead and rarely to the living. 

Akaashi thought back to something Bokuto had told him in one of their earliest meetings. “Bokuto-san, do you have any enemies?” Bokuto seemed blindsided by the question, and Akaashi cleared his throat and tried again, “I just mean, for this to have happened so suddenly. When you’ve lived here for a few years now. Is there anyone who wanted to… really scare you? In a bad way?”

He had to carefully trim his words to both not lie, but also to not reveal what he knew too soon. Bokuto sighed, “I mean, any sport is going to have rivalries, but I can’t imagine someone going to this extreme.” He chuckled, “I mean maybe Kuroo would want to give me a scare, and we did get into a fight a while back. But I doubt he’d be able to keep it a secret for so long…” He trailed off, as though a thought had occurred to him and Akaashi held his breath. “Though he hasn’t spoken to me since then. So maybe he’s madder about it than I thought.” His brow furrowed again, “I need to talk to him. Why- why haven’t-“

He had to calm Bokuto down, “This is something that would need a deep hatred, I doubt a fight with your best friend would be enough.” He cleared his throat, “So, do you go out often?”

Bokuto stared at him as though not really seeing him, then his eyes focused and he blinked, “Do- what?” He shook his head, “sorry. Go out. Umm- yeah, I used to go out more in college. But once I started being scouted I had to hold back some to put on my best show.” 

Akaashi nodded, “That explains how we never met then.”

Bokuto tilted his head, “I mean, there’s a lot of people in the city.”

Akaashi just smiled, wistfully, “But not very many of them are Japanese.”

Bokuto returned the smile, and Akaashi would never in his life hate his gifts as much as he did at that moment. He could have lived his entire life never knowing Koutarou Bokuto. Never knowing the pain of never really being able to know him. The promise of tomorrow that he’d been feeling since that heavy, sweltering day was gone. “Maybe if I knew you sooner…” He trailed off. 

Bokuto just smiled, “Going to have to make up for lost time then.” 

Akaashi was sure his face was pained, he could feel it in every corner of his body. But before Bokuto could comment on it he groaned, “Gah- you really don’t hear that?” He wiggled a finger in his ear before tilting his head and shaking it like he was trying to get the last drops of water after swimming. “It's so _annoying.”_ He looked around the room, and even Akaashi glanced around. This was certainly something he’d never heard of before. “It’s like-“ Bokuto snapped his fingers, “Like a heart monitor at a hospital! They must really love medical shows,” he mumbled, looking in the direction of the duplex’s upstairs neighbor. “You really don’t hear that?”

Akaashi was quiet a moment. Shook his head, then gasped quietly, “Bokuto-san, how often do you hear the beeping?”

He shrugged, “Every few nights, it's getting more common now.” He leaned closer, “Wait, do you think its the-”

“This is very important, Bokuto-san. What’s the last thing you remember _before_ the haunting started?”

Bokuto sighed, “I don’t know, I guess the party?”

“Party?” Akaashi wondered aloud. Bokuto had never mentioned anything about this before, but the way he said it gave Akaashi the impression he should have known about it. 

“Yea, for my signing.” He pointed behind him at the desk against the wall, volleyball trophies and awards all on display. He stood and grabbed something off it. “I was signed to a league team in May, so my friends threw me a party.” A sad frown flitted across his face, “That was actually the last time I saw any of them.”

The rushing started in Akaashi’s ears, but he shook it off. He had to get more answers. “What else do you re-remember? Did you go to the party? Ugh- Then what happened?” He was squeezing his eyes against the pain. 

Bokuto seemed oblivious to what was happening to Akaashi as he kept staring at the paper, sadness overwhelming his normally bright personality. “I mean, I drank, we all drank. Then I got in the fight with Kuroo.” He shook his head like he was trying to clear it, “Then- umm. Then, I guess then I started to get tired. So I went home.”

“What else?” Akaashi felt like he was screaming past the pain in his head as the pocket dimension collapsed around him. 

Bokuto shrugged nonchalantly, “Then I woke up. A door slammed-“ he gasped and looked up to Akaashi, “Hey, wait! That was the first thing that- hey. Akaashi- are you okay?” He rushed over and in an instant the rushing in his ears, the pain in his head, and the nausea from pushing past it was gone. 

Akaashi jumped up and bowed to Bokuto, “I have to go, I need to check on something.”

Bokuto took a step back, but his arm continued to reach out and gripped Akaashi’s elbow. “Yea, you do what you need. I’ll come by tomorrow and check on you, okay?” 

Akaashi stared at him. “O-okay.” He said in shock. 

Bokuto chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised. Now go home, feel better.” He winked, as though he were aware of a secret Akaashi was trying to hide. 

Akaashi smirked, “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When the door shut behind him, Akaashi leaned forward on his knees. Nausea came rushing back and he had to close his eyes and breath through his nose to stop it. When he opened them, he glanced around and knew that if he knocked on that door again, it would not be Bokuto who answered it. 

But that was a conversation for another day. For now, he had some research to do.

Bokuto had said he played for one of the local schools before going pro. Which meant anything that happened to him would be covered if not by The Picayune, then by his school’s newspaper. As he drove to the library he frequented, Akaashi thought about how unlikely it was that he’d never met Bokuto before last month. 

As though something had been keeping them separate, only to meet after one was no longer corporeal. Parking his car, he realized just how close he was to Bokuto’s home. Though it was unlikely the wing spiker used a library, let alone one not attached to the campus he attended, the thought remained. They had always been so near each other, to never have noticed each other. He shook his head. He was here to help now, and that’s all he could do. Depending on how dire the situation, it could end up being for the best. 

Better to focus on helping where he could instead of what he had no chance of changing. 

He started at the computers and pulled up Bokuto’s school’s newspaper. Searching the name, it wasn’t long before search results gave him hundreds of articles. While there was one that was immediately relevant, the first result, he focused on the others. The ones that showed Bokuto dangling in the air like a star in the sky. Poised and ready to strike the ball with all the power his shoulders contained. Akaashi let out a huff, he would have loved to have seen that body in action. He could only imagine the attention he drew, given the number of personal pieces about the player. He was clearly well-loved by the school’s community. 

So what happened?

He finally took a deep breath and clicked the first result:

**ROCKETING VOLLEYBALL CAREER ENDS IN HORRIBLE CRASH**

**_Doctors remain hopeful as student remains in coma_ **

_The Loyola campus was shocked Friday morning as news spread of the horrific crash involving star volleyball star Koutarou Bokuto. A Japanese student who became a popular fixture on campus, Bokuto had only just signed a contract with a national team days ago and had been heading home after a night celebrating at a house party with friends when his car swerved off the road and crashed into a tree. He was quickly rushed to the hospital where doctors are monitoring him as he remains in a coma. No further information regarding the crash is known at this time. Tokens from fans and friends were at the gates of the Luckett Gymnasium, where the volleyball team usually practices. As other fans have apparently been sending so many floral arrangements to his hospital room that local florists are no longer receiving orders in his name. The coming game this Saturday has been canceled in light of these events. His family and friends ask his fans to be respectful during this hard time._

Akaashi cursed. He felt a shock of water hit his hand. Was there a leak? He lifted his hand and inspected the puddle. Then felt his cheek and realized he was crying. Quickly, he rubbed the trails away and sniffed. A coma. Akaashi could handle a coma. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been active until the blessing. It was promising. Maybe. He scanned other articles but found nothing about _which_ hospital he’d been brought to. 

He walked to the microfiche room, gathering the newspapers from around the time of the crash. If he were as popular as the school’s paper made it seem, there was no way he wouldn't be mentioned. 

As he scanned the sports sections for any news, his phone started vibrating. “Hello, this is Keiji?”

He hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID, but outside of work, he rarely received phone calls.

“Mr. Akaashi, yes. Hi. This is Hitoka Yachi? You blessed our apartment a few weeks ago?” Akaashi stood out of his chair, knocking it to the ground. 

He swallowed roughly around whatever had become lodged in his throat as soon as she’d said her name. “Ye-yes. Yes,” he cleared his throat, “How are you Yachan?”

He heard a giggle huff at the nickname, but the tone sobered when she said, “Not great, actually.”

He nodded somberly, then shook his head when he remembered she couldn’t see him. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around for his chair. “Oh- that’s. What’s happening?” Like he didn’t already know. 

“It’s actually- the last few days things have been kind of… weird? Just small things that weren’t that big of a deal, and I assumed were just the neighbor but. This afternoon? I-”

She didn’t have to tell him, he righted the chair and sat down heavily in it. His hand across his face, holding his breath. Willing to give anything for her to not say exactly what he was expecting her to say. 

“I think it’s Bokuto-san. I think he’s upset or something? I think. I don’t think the blessing actually worked?”

“Hmm,” he mumbled distractedly. He found the article he’d been looking for and tapped his finger. In the middle of the page was the name of the hospital Bokuto’s flesh and blood body was lying in, still alive if only by machinery. _Tulane Hospital_. “Hitoka. I need to ask you a few questions about Bokuto if I’m going to be able to help you. How soon could you and Kuroo-san meet with me?”

While waiting to meet with the young couple, Akaashi made his way to the hospital. He messaged one of the nurses he knew as he waited in the lobby. He was once again grateful for having a friend in the ER. He ordered a coffee at the cafe, surrounded by long faces and tired doctors as he waited. 

“What horribly sad story do I have to relay today?” Came a tired voice. 

He turned around and saw the beleaguered grin of his childhood friend. He smiled and in an amused voice said, “Mika, this is for you.” He handed her the brownie he’d bought from the cafe. 

She glanced at the brownie, then at her friend’s innocent expression. She finally rolled her eyes, snatched the snack, and fell into the chair across from him. “What? I’m busy.”

“You’re at work, I’d assume so.”

With her mouth full of chocolate, she only narrowed her eyes at him. 

He sat straight and cleared his throat. “You had a car accident patient about three months or so ago.”

Mika swallowed, “Have you seen drivers in this city? I get a lot of car accidents, Keiji, you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

He leaned forward, “he was an athlete, attractive. Japanese?” He supplied. And immediately her eyes widened and she choked on her second bite of brownie. 

When she’d finally caught her breath she had a fearful look in her eyes. Something he had never seen before from her. “You’ve seen Bokuto?”

“What?” The way she said his name, it was more than a familiar patient. “Did you know him?”

She set the brownie down thoughtfully and shook her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I’m going to need you to start at the beginning, Mika. If I’m going to help him, I _need_ to know what happened. He deserves that much.”

She held up her hand to stop him. “Keiji, Bokuto-.” She took a breath. “He’s a _very_ good friend of mine.” She looked off, “This whole thing has been very hard.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Finding out he…and almost losing him.”

Akaashi was quiet as he let her work through what she wanted to say. She’d always been a kind soul, it was why she went into nursing, to begin with. To help people. She was also a strong soul. She could emotionally handle the dead and the dying- being surrounded by that stage of death- in a way Akaashi could never imagine. He was surrounded by the after-effects of death. The departed who had no way of returning to the living. Mika did everything she could to make sure he never met those souls. To see her so shaken, she must have been closer to Bokuto than he’d thought. 

“Just start with what happened,” he said gently when she didn’t continue. 

She nodded and swiped quickly at her eye. “He’d been in a car accident. He was super banged up, but alive. A passing car had seen his tail lights, he’d swerved off the road and hit a tree. If the car hadn’t seen him, he probably wouldn’t have survived until morning.” She gave a humorless laugh, “Shit, if he hadn’t gotten into the accident, he wouldn’t have survived until morning.”

Akaashi shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

She blinked owlishly at him then said, “There were enough barbiturates in his system to take out a racehorse.”

Akaashi tried to process that information. He failed at doing so, “I don’t understand.”

“Yea, no one had any idea he had a drug problem.” She shook her head sadly. “He was always so energetic and excited. You’d never guess he was taking downers. But that can be pretty common. They hide that part of themselves so well sometimes. And he was always so busy with practice and games.” She let her head drop, “But maybe I’m just telling myself that so I don’t feel guilty about not noticing.” She said dejectedly.

“Mika, no.” He had no idea how to comfort her. Still trying to comprehend this new aspect of someone he thought he’d grown to know fairly well. Though how well can you know someone in a month? Especially given the fact that they’d been a ghost the entire time and he had no idea. He repeated something he’d heard, lord knew where. “If he hadn’t reached out for help, there’s nothing you would have been able to do, anyway.”

She nodded, as though she knew that advice already. She probably did. She was probably where he’d heard it from in the first place. “You’re right, I know you are. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow.” 

She was quiet for another moment and Akaashi took advantage to ask, “You said the accident saved his life.” He leaned forward.

She finally held his gaze, “If he’d made it home, he would have likely overdosed. Because of the accident, he came to the hospital and we were able to pump his stomach in time.”Akaashi nodded, saddened by how close Bokuto had come to being able to survive. Only to be left comatose in a hospital bed, unable to die but unable to live. But then Mika kept talking, “I just hope once he wakes up, we’ll be able to convince him to get the help he needs.”

Akaashi had trouble computing the new information, again, “Sorry?” He asked, leaning across the table almost desperately. As though his body had already understood the implication of what she’d said before his mind. 

“When he wakes up, I’m planning an intervention with his closest friends.” She blushed and looked away, “I _really_ shouldn’t be talking about this with you…” She trailed off. 

Akaashi looked at his hands, which were tightly wringing themselves to the bone, _When he woke up,_ “So there’s a chance he’ll wake up?” He asked, hoping the uplifted feeling in his chest wasn’t so easily discernible in his voice. 

Mika squinted her eyes, “I mean, yea. It’s going to take a little while, but his doctors anticipate him waking up in a few weeks if not days.”

Akaashi blinked, stunned. He felt like there was some piece of a puzzle he was missing but hadn’t fit it together enough to figure out _what_ it was. 

His phone vibrated, a message from Hitoka that something had come up and the young couple would be able to meet him later that evening after dinner. Akaashi stood.

The way Kuroo and Hitoka had spoken about him, it had seemed hopeless. As though he would not be waking up. But hearing it from Mika, his prognosis was extremely positive. He had even more questions for the couple, but first, “Last question- how come you never introduced us?”

She shrugged, “I seriously doubt the two of you would get along,” she said with a chuckle. 

He hummed committedly and nodded his head in thanks.

Walking through the door of his shop, Akaashi felt a chill. He turned quickly. “Bokuto-san,” he gasped. “How-“

“I know.” The larger man wasn’t looking at Akaashi, but at the floor, “I- it’s me? Isn’t it?” He looked up, and he seemed so sad, Akaashi rushed to stand in front of him only to halt at the last second, afraid that touch was something Bokuto wouldn’t want at that moment. Then he asked in a small voice, “How?”

Akaashi reached his hand out slowly and Bokuto took an unintentional step forward as well. Bokuto’s face was tucked into the junction of Akaashi’s neck before he’d even realized he’d moved. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into Bokuto’s white and black hair, his long fingertips brushing against the short strands at the nape of his neck. 

When Bokuto finally pulled back, Akaashi waited for him to speak. He stepped away and walked to the small reading room, Bokuto following quietly behind. When he sat down, he spoke. “I think something happened after you came by. I remembered more of the night, and I- I don’t know. I think I heard something? Am I-?” He was quiet, looking to Akaashi for some kind of answer. 

For his part, Akaashi only took a deep breath, “I think the original blessing I did on the apartment is what woke you up.” Bokuto nodded silently. “Someone else lives there now, and you created some kind of reality pocket. That’s what I visited earlier, and I think it was too much for your subconscious to handle.” He paused, he’d never had to have _this_ kind of conversation with a spirit before. Usually, the band-aid method was best, and so with that in mind, Akaashi continued. “Your body is in a coma, you’re in the hospital. You had an accident on the way home from that party you told me about. You’ve been there for over two months now.” Bokuto just blinked, “I performed a blessing on your apartment for the new tenants, I think that’s what woke up your spirit.” Bokuto looked away, a pained expression on his face. Akaashi stopped talking. 

“What- What happened?” He whispered. 

Akaashi cleared his throat and went to his bag, pulling out his tablet and opening the relevant articles. When he sat back down he pushed it towards Bokuto as he spoke. Things could either go really bad or really well at this point. It was up to Bokuto, though. “I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to stay focused on the facts.” 

Bokuto looked at the tablet then up at Akaashi, he nodded. He reached for the tablet and looked at the picture attached to the article. It was his car, wrapped around the tree. A small note regarding the miracle of his survival. 

“Bokuto- do you remember what happened at the party?” 

He stared at the center of the table for a moment, then his brow crinkled in a way that made Akaashi want to smooth it out, his fingertips twitched and he began tapping the table silently. Finally, Bokuto shook his head, then said, “No, wait. The party- it was for me, for getting signed to a Division 1 team.” Akaashi nodded, they’d already been over this, “and… Kuroo. He was…” He tilted his head trying to remember. “I remember we were all drinking, and Yachan said something about being proud of both of us getting on a team. But-“ He shook his head slowly, “Kuroo hadn’t said anything to me about making a team. I remember I thought it was weird he wouldn’t tell me. So I pulled him aside, to talk to him- to ask him about it.” His eyes squinted as he thought harder, “But. There wasn’t another team.” The words were coming easier now. “I asked him why he’d lied to Yachan, to everyone. And he got _so angry_.” 

Akaashi could hear the sadness and started to loosen his fingers, to slide a hand across the table, but Bokuto kept going. “The recruiter had told him that I was just the stronger player. To try again next year when they might have a middle blocker position open. I remember that was so strange. Why would he have told Kuroo that? But- he did. And Kuroo was so angry. _I_ was angry. To have been so close, and not get on the team. We thought we’d both get an offer but-“ He shook his head. 

_“Why does Yachan think you made the team, then?” Bokuto asked gently, empty cup in hand._

_Kuroo shrugged tensely and looked away, “I have it under control.”_

_Bokuto sighed, tilting his head and giving Kuroo a serious stare, “You need to tell her the truth, She’ll find out sooner or later.”_

_Kuroo glanced at Bokuto, his eyes flashing ferally, a look Bokuto remembered from years of playing across the net from him “Not if you don’t say anything,” He teased harshly. Bokuto sighed, not in the mood for Kuroo’s antics when it could mean Yachi getting hurt. This would crush her. Kuroo shifted his stance, leaning away as he took a final swig from his cup. “Look, she’s been so stressed with her internship, this was one thing that was making her happy. I couldn’t take it away from her, not like this. I’m going to tell her, just… Let her have this. Just for tonight. She deserves to think I didn’t fuck this up.”_

_Bokuto sighed again, looking through the sliding glass door into the kitchen where Yachi was grinning so wide her eyes were squeezed shut. He hadn’t seen her like that in months. “I mean, yea. Okay.” He looked back, “But I’m just saying, you shouldn’t lie to her. You need to tell her the truth, soon.”_

_That same fire from Tokyo glowed in his eyes again when Kuroo responded, “I think I can handle my own relationship, Bokuto.”_

_Bokuto chuckled and slapped Kuroo’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”_

_Kuroo was quiet for a second, watching Yachi laugh and smile with their friends. “Here, let me get you another drink.” He said, grabbing Bokuto’s cup before he could turn down the offer._

_“Okay fine. But just the one!” He laughed, glad their argument was resolved, though sad for the bombshell that was about to be dropped on Yachi’s head._

Akaashi watched as Bokuto shook his head, as though clearing a memory, “I asked him why Yachi thought he’d made the team, and told him that he needed to tell her the truth. But… He just…” he sighed, “He told me he wanted to give her that one night to think their life plan was still on track. And that if I didn’t say anything… She could be happy for a little longer. And that I shouldn’t take that away from her.” Bokuto quickly waved his hand, “He was going to tell her, I know what he meant though. Him not making the team,” he sighed, “I told him to have a backup plan, we all did. But making a Division 1 team was such a major part of their plan. And he hadn’t made the cut. I told him she would find out eventually,” He sighed. 

Akaashi waited for Bokuto to continue. He didn’t. He waited for the drugs to be mentioned, they weren’t. “Bokuto-“ He said, unease slipping into his voice so loud he flinched, “I need to know what happened next.” 

Bokuto gave a heavy sigh, and the room felt like a December evening in an instant. “I remember finishing that final drink, and realizing I needed to get home, I was getting too tired. I-“ He blushed and avoided Akaashi’s prying eyes, “I know I shouldn’t have but… I drove home.” He shook his head, “It was stupid and you never think it’ll happen to _you_ , ya know? You’re not _that_ drunk, really. And I wasn’t! That was only my second cup, and it was super weak. So I thought, ‘oh, it’ll be fine,’ You know? I was just really tired.” His head fell into his hands on the table and he groaned loudly, “This was all my fault.” 

Akaashi sucked his lip into his mouth, debating the best thing to say. “Do you remember what happened next? After you decided to leave the party.” 

Bokuto sighed into the table, “No, just the next thing I was walking through the door and the first door slam happened.” He sighed again and refused to pick his head up from the table. 

This was not a reaction he expected out of a ghost, and certainly not a ghost he still had questions for. He needed a distraction, “Were there a lot of people there? At the party?” 

Bokuto’s head popped up, “Yeah, so many! All of our friends, and the university team. It was packed. It was at this house across the river, and it was _huge_. I didn’t know people could live in a house that big!” 

Akaashi smiled, “And all those people were there for you? It was a party just for you signing?” Bokuto nodded excitedly, “That’s really amazing, Bokuto-san. I’ve never had that many people care about something I did like that.” He smiled softly, “You must be really loved.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and after a moment so did Akaashi’s. They both quickly looked away, heat rose to their cheeks, and the room warmed a few degrees. 

Akaashi cleared his throat first, “But you said you got really tired?” This was his opportunity to ask, he gathered his courage, “Do you think that was because of the drugs?” 

Something about what Mika had mentioned had continued to seem off. Bokuto just- he didn’t seem the type. And that no one had noticed his drug use, not a single person according to Mika. It didn’t add up. 

Bokuto’s mood shifted and he squinted his eyes, “What drugs?”

 _Bingo_.

“There were drugs at the party, weren’t there? If there was drinking, I just assume.”

Bokuto looked away nervously. His hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean- some people use them, but” he dropped his arm and caught Akaashi’s eyes, “I don’t. I never do that stuff.”

Akaashi sat straighter in his chair, “What kind of drugs were at the party, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto leans away from the table, “I’m not really sure.” A lie. “I just know they help you have a good time when you’re drinking. They’re supposed to I guess… calm you down or something.” He shrugged, clearly having no idea of the drug's actual effects. 

“So a downer?”

Bokuto tilted his head in clear confusion, “Like a sad story?”

Akaashi quickly hid the upwards tilt of his lips at Bokuto’s innocent confusion. 

The athlete shook his head and held his hands out in front of him, “Look, I don’t know hardly anything about the drugs that were at the party. I don’t do that stuff, everyone knows it. Just ask!” 

He started to get a little worked up, and Akaashi felt the electricity cackle briefly before saying, “No, I believe you. I was just following a potential lead.” He sighed, that meant his next question would be even harder. Especially if Bokuto got that worked up over being accused of taking the drugs intentionally. “But I do have to ask. Was there anyone who had a reason to want to hurt you? Maybe just a little? Or as a joke? Revenge for a game you won? Anything at all.”

Bokuto was quiet, he stared at Akaashi, “Do you- do you think I was murdered?”

Akaashi sighed, “Well, you’re still alive technically. So no. You’re not actually murdered.”

Bokuto pulled an exasperated face, “You know what I mean, Akaashi!” And Akaashi did, and also was glad Bokuto found the ability to tease at a time like this. 

“I think something more than you driving tipsy happened that night. But I’m going to find out what.” He stood, “I’m going to do everything I can to fix this, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stayed seated, “If someone tried to hurt me…” He trailed off, “and I’m starting to wake up.” He looked up at Akaashi, a hardened reality in his eyes, “Does that mean I’m in danger?”

Akaashi felt a chill again, but not from any drop in temperature. He sat back down. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

They held each other's gaze, Akaashi’s hand sliding across the table to Bokuto’s. Akaashi thought that the warmth had to be in his mind, but then Bokuto flipped his hand over and wrapped his wide fingers around Akaashi’s thin, longer ones and the warmth increased. “Thank you.” He tightened the grip into a gentle squeeze. 

When he finally got the call from Hitoka that he could head to their apartment, she had seemed frantic, the activity had gotten slightly worse, around the time of Bokuto and Akaashi’s conversation. Photos had flown off walls and dishes had exploded in the cabinets. Akaashi glanced at Bokuto who was peacefully perusing the occult books and sighed through his nose. Maybe he hadn’t been as calm as he’d projected. Not a good sign in Akaashi’s effort to avoid creating a poltergeist. 

With confirmation that he was on his way and his notebook of compiled questions in his bag, he gave Bokuto a single explicit instruction. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Anything the couple might say had the potential to set Bokuto off if his emotions were already so volatile. 

From the start, the entire meeting had seemed _off_ to Akaashi. Especially after learning what he had between Bokuto and Mika. 

Bokuto was fully expected to wake up, so why did the young couple refer to him in the past tense. Hitoka even tearing up at one point, having to excuse herself. Maybe they were unaware of the extent of Bokuto’s injuries, or lack thereof. According to Kuroo, Yachi was an extremely sensitive girl, and none of their friends pushed her to visit when she got so emotional. 

But Kuroo, by his own admission, was one of Bokuto’s oldest friends. Mika had mentioned planning an intervention. Kuroo would certainly be one of the first people asked to participate. While Hitoka was in the bathroom, Akaashi took the moment of privacy to ask, “Is Bokuto’s prognosis so severe?” 

Kuroo, watching his girlfriend run down the hallway with concern, shifted his eyes quickly to the witch. “What?” They hardened in an instant. “How did you-?”

‘ _Shit.’_ In his urgency to find answers, he almost played his hand too soon. “I did some research, I found out he’s in a coma. I get the impression the doctors aren’t hopeful, so why is he still on life support?” 

Kuroo nodded, his eyes softening. “Some of his family want to ignore the inevitable.” He sounded bitter and angry, “So selfish, keeping him alive like that.” He nodded to the bathroom, “Hitoka can’t handle it. She wants to know he’s at peace, but his family just won’t let him go.” His eyes misted over, “I want to know he’s at peace.”

Akaashi nodded and pretended not to notice as Kuroo quickly swiped at an escaped tear. “There’s really no hope at all?” He asked. 

“Not as I understood it.” Akaashi furrowed his brow, but Kuroo continued, “some of our friends are even believing that he’ll wake up and be just fine. But even the doctors have said- if he wakes up, he probably won’t be the same person he was before.” He shook his head, “I can’t even imagine it.” 

Hitoka appeared in the doorway and both men quickly shifted in their seats. She was clearly gentle-hearted. He figured it best to start putting her mind at ease, “I think Bokuto is your ghost. And I think I can help.”

Hitoka gasped and clutched Kuroo’s sleeve, “I knew it.” The tears started falling again, this time unhindered. “He must hate us so much!” She began to wail. 

Akaashi had to hide his smirk as he said, “I seriously doubt Bokuto is capable of hate, Hitoka. I couldn’t imagine his soul being upset with _anyone,_ least of all _you._ ” He was quiet for a moment, “He cares about you a lot.” Her tears stopped and she blinked owlishly at him. 

But he felt the cold waves off of Kuroo in an instant. “You seem to know a lot about him, Akaashi.”

Akaashi just raised an eyebrow, “Knowing ghosts is what I do for a living. I’m a witch, and my business would hardly be successful if I didn’t have the ability to connect with the dead and interpret their intentions. I know Bokuto was a kind and gentle soul, and he cares a lot about his friends.” He took a deep breath, “That he would be more than willing to do anything for them.”

Kuroo looked away quickly, his jaw clenched, before excusing himself and walking down the hall. Hitoka watched him leave before turning to Akaashi and explaining, “Bokuto was his best friend here. They’ve known each other for so long. He’s been so… distant since the accident.” She was speaking in a low voice, and Akaashi had to lean close to hear her. “Sometimes it’s like he died that night, too.”

She had an unspeakable sadness in her eyes, and Akaashi had no idea how to comfort her. He’d spoken with people who lost loved ones to the other side. Nothing like this. “Hitoka, I need to ask you a few questions about the night of the accident. It will help me put Bokuto at rest.” 

She collected herself and nodded, sitting straighter on the sofa, “Ask me anything you need to know.” 

He smiled gently, “The night of the accident. Do you remember Bokuto talking to anyone, or anyone saying anything to him or about him that seemed strange?”

She tapped her finger on her chin, then twisted her mouth like she was frustrated with herself. “No, everyone was super excited about his news. And he was talking to everyone just fine.” Her eyes widened suddenly, “He got in a funny mood toward the end of the night though!” 

“Funny how?”

“Him and Kuroo both,” she quickly glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer, “they walked outside and started talking, and then Kuroo came back in just the _worst_ mood. I’ve hardly ever seen him like that.”

“And Bokuto?”

She shrugged, “He seemed so dejected and sad and started avoiding talking to us.” 

Akaashi nodded, knowing exactly what conversation had been. “And what happened next?” He asked, matching her whispered tone. 

“I mean, Kuroo must have taken a walk or something, cause he was gone for a little while. But a little while later, Bokuto said he was getting tired and was going to head home-“ She broke off abruptly. “Then… We hadn’t even left too long after him. But. It had been enough time. We saw the lights, then the car.” She took a shaky breath. “We followed the ambulance to the hospital. It was-” She broke off again, and Akaashi reached a hand across to rest on her shoulder.

She took a steadying breath. “When the doctor came out to talk to us he told us about the drugs. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years,” her voice was so adamant and forceful. Something he would have never been able to imagine her capable of if he hadn’t heard it. 

“Did you know? About the drugs?” A loud crash came from the kitchen and Hitoka yelped, half propelled off the sofa in shock. _Bokuto_ , Akaashi realized. But he had to press on, “Hitoka, the drugs, did you have any idea that Bokuto was using?”

She shook her head. “I was going to deny it!” She gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “But Kuroo-“ She bit her lip and closed her eyes, “He didn’t seem shocked at all. He- he knew about it, I think.”

“You think?”

She gave a half-hearted shrug, “I mean, we haven’t talked about it much. It’s been hard for me to talk about, and then I never know how to bring it up with him. All of his friends are back in Japan. Except for Bokuto. And now…. He’s gone, too,” she finished in a soft voice. 

Akaashi squeezed her hand a final time, “Thank you, Hitoka. This has been very helpful. I think I can solve your problem, soon.”

“You can help Bokuto?” The hopeful look in her eyes, the pleading in the voice. Whatever was going on here, Akaashi had no doubt Hitoka Yachi knew nothing about it. 

He nodded curtly. “I will.”

Akaashi knew something was wrong the second he stood in front of his shop. The air crackled, the wind howled. He threw the door open to find Bokuto pacing. “What are they talking about? What was she talking about?” 

With his hands outstretched in a pacifying gesture, Akaashi gently said, “Bokuto-san. You have to calm down.” He heard a lightbulb burst from the backroom and the ones overhead shown brighter. “Bokuto-san,” he said again, with more force. 

Bokuto seemed to finally _see_ Akaashi, and the lights dimmed slightly. As did the waves of heat emanating off of Bokuto. “I don’t do drugs, Akaashi.”

“I know, Bokuto-san,” He said, arms still in front of him. Almost on instinct. 

Bokuto’s voice was smaller when he said, “Then why-“ He swallowed and took a breath, “Why did you-“

“I was getting information, I know you don’t, Bokuto-san. But I had to get information from people who think you did. I’m sorry,” He whispered the last words. 

Bokuto clenched his fist and stared hard at the floor before nodding in acceptance. But the remaining energy didn’t dissipate as Akaashi expected it would. Instead, it began to grow again, “But why?” He ground out through clenched teeth. 

“What?” Akaashi asked, finally lowering his hands. 

“I don’t do drugs, I _never_ have. Kuroo _knows that._ ” Another bulb shattered and Akaashi covered his face as he felt the sting of fresh cuts over his hands. “He knows I don’t do drugs, so _why_?”

The cold sting was gone in an instant, replaced with dread, “Wait. He does?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto nodded once, still not looking up. “He would always tease me about never even trying it. But I _don’t do-“_

“Bokuto-san, this is extremely important,” Bokuto looked up, the anger waves dropping off almost entirely, “Does Kuroo have access to strong drugs?” Bokuto tilted his head as though Akaashi were the stupid one. Waving his hand uselessly, Akaashi clarified, Like, sedatives or suppressants.”

Bokuto quickly responded, “I mean.” He shrugged, “That’s what his thesis is on.”

“What?” Akaashi asked, flummoxed. He remembered a lot of fancy science words, and not one of them had anything to do with drugs. 

“Well, yea, his research is on barbiturates used in synthetic bonding.” Akaashi blinked, Bokuto continued, “His project partners would sometimes sell some extra for cash and mark it as a failed second attempt in the experiment process.” 

Akaashi’s face felt tight, and his mouth gaped. He could hear the slight strangled noises as he tried to find the words to explain what he’d just realize. What Bokuto still could not even fathom. 

Bokuto took a step forward, “Why?” His voice held an edge, as though it were a question he really didn’t want to know the answer to. It was an answer Akaashi really didn’t want to supply. 

Instead, he could only whisper back, “I don’t know.” Bokuto let out a violent, animalistic howl as the energy around them escalated. The outline of his body, his hair, his face, and hands, it all grew hazy as he became less corporeal. Less human. “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered in desperation. “No,” it was nothing more than a breath as Bokuto’s form let out another anguished cry. 

Akaashi saw sparks, the electricity was surging. He heard a metallic groaning then a pop followed immediately by a loud explosion. Then running water. Then the sparks got louder. “Bokuto, please!” He saw every one of his dreams, all tied to the shop, all his memories of his grandmother, every day of meeting and helping people, all of it. It grew sopping wet as water rushed from the walls. Then he smelled the smoke. A bitter acrid smell as the old wallpaper began to curl away from the wall revealing the red and black wood underneath as it burned. “Bokuto-san!” But Bokuto was gone. Or he was about to be. His spirit giving in to his desperation, his loss, his betrayal, and above all else it was letting go of his humanity. An urge for revenge had overtaken his mind, an inhuman desire for life taking away the last of humanity. 

Akaashi glanced around the shop. He had to expel Bokuto. He was lost. Once a spirit had turned to revenge, had given away its hold on kindness or understanding and refused to acknowledge benevolence and sympathy, it lost its humanness. It became other, it became an entity that needed removal for the safety of others. 

As Akaashi watched his livelihood turn to ash around his feet, he knew the logical choice, the one his grandmother had ingrained in his heart and mind for two decades until he lost her. When a spirit became an entity, there was no longer anything to save. 

He looked to the painting of his grandmother, glowing orange in the flames. And he apologized because he knew Bokuto wasn’t fully lost yet. There was still a chance to save him. Because Bokuto still had a body. And while the chance was small, he was willing to take it. He turned on his heel and slammed into the door as he escaped the burning building, the first gasp of clear air had him hacking so hard he feared he might vomit. 

Onlookers had gathered on the street, all gawking and trying to hold themselves up with giant open containers in their hands. Some were filming, some were calling for help. A few rushed towards him to make sure he was okay. 

He pushed them all away, coughing into the back of his hand. He rushed to his car and barely spared a glance at the street as he pulled into the middle to drive towards the hospital. 

He was coughing so hard, he was vibrating. He could feel it all the way in his hip. Wait. He let one hand slip from the steering wheel and held it against his pocket. _Vrrm Vrrm. Vrrm Vrrm._ He growled and was about to ignore it when he felt a pull in his fingers to answer it. 

“Hello?” He grunted out, a mixture of annoyance and strained vocal cords. 

“Keiji!” It was Hitoka, she sounded hysterical, a giant sob broke his name into about three syllables more than it was. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening. Please- you- AHH!”

“Hitoka?” He shouted into the phone, His car swerving slightly before he regained control, “Hitoka, are you okay?” 

She came back to the phone, every gasping breath riddled with sobs. He’d never heard anyone cry so hard past the age of eight. “I don’t know what happened. It just… You left, and I told Kuroo what we talked about, he was so angry, I don’t understand what happened!”

He sighed slowly through his nose to regain calm. “Has he hurt you?” He demanded.

“What-” The momentary shock of his question finally breaking through her hysteria. “ _No_ .” She sounded offended. “He told me to stay put and that he was going to handle things.” Akaashi’s blood ran cold. But Hitoka wasn’t finished. “But then,” the terror slowly inched back into her voice and he heard a loud slam then a quiet he hadn’t realized had been missing from her side of the call since he’d picked up. Like she’d been in a crowd and had finally stepped away. “But then everything started going crazy. Everything in the cabinets was just flying to the floor, lightbulbs were popping all over the apartment. The water started running. God, I was terrified!” A few choice words fell out that he recognized from his grandmother’s frustration with him as a child and his eyebrows raised in shock. “I know it's Bokuto, but I don’t understand _why!”_ She cried. 

Akaashi felt the warm breath he forced out in an attempt to find calm. It came out in a huff, not unlike a bull. He knew why, but he wasn’t about to explain that to her over the phone. Or in person, really. This wasn’t the kind of thing he’d ever been prepared for. “Where is he now?”

He heard her swallow, “I think he went to talk to Bokuto, maybe see if some part of him was still around, he could bring some closure. We just don’t know what to do. This is-” She broke down again. He glanced out the window and mentally calculated how long it would take to reach the uptown hospital. 

“Listen to me carefully, go to a friend’s house. Do not go back inside under any circumstances. Everything is going to be okay.” He knew that she would not be okay at the end of this. That her world was about to come crashing down, one way or another, because of the events that were about to transpire. “This will all be over soon, Hitoka. I promise.”

He hung up as soon as she said okay. It sounded like she was in the process of trying to gulp it back down her throat, and he hoped she followed his advice to not go back inside for her own safety. If Bokuto was wreaking havoc at his apartment while his spirit was in a small shop in the french quarter, there was no telling what he’d be able to do to a tiny human like Hitoka. 

He flipped through his contact list quickly in glances between his phone and the road. Finally, he came across the one he wanted and prayed she’d be able to answer. “Mika Yamaka,” he heard by way of a greeting.

“Is Kuroo there?” He demanded before she could finish the last syllable. 

There was a pause, and he imagined she pulled the phone away from her ear to check the caller ID more closely before she said in a confused voice, “Keiji?”

“Is Kuroo there?” He demanded again, more urgently.

“Yea, I just passed him, How’d you-“ she sounded like she had a smile on her face and he had to fight the urge to swallow back the bile that was quickly rising. 

“You need to stop him,” He said in a low voice, surprising himself at the sudden calm.

“What?’ She chuckled. 

“You need to stop him!” So much for that sudden calm. “Don’t let him get to Bokuto’s room, Mika! _Please!_ ” He took a few ragged breaths then added, “Please trust me, don’t let him.”

He knew what he was asking. He knew how crazy he must sound. This wasn’t some random client that she only knew through Akaashi’s side of the interactions. This was a friend. This was someone who was part of her social circle, and he was asking her to not trust this person. 

He didn’t know if he’d put the same belief in himself at that moment. But then, “Melli, Put a code gray on room 213, _now.”_ And the line went dead. 

He had no idea what a code gray was, but he had enough sense to know it meant she believed him. He felt a short-lived wave of peace break against his heart and he let out a shaky breath. Just two more stoplights and he’d be there. 

He gave a small prayer that it wasn’t rush hour. 

By the time he arrived on the second floor, there was such a rush of activity, Akaashi wondered if there had been some catastrophe he’d missed in his rush to get there. But then he got closer to room 213, and the flurry of activity only intensified. The small wave of calm was pulled back into the ocean of dread and fear. 

He pushed himself to the front of the crowd and saw Mika banging on the door, looking over her shoulder for _something_ , and then resuming her banging. “Kuroo, please. I don’t know what’s going on, but you _can’t do this!_ ” 

Akaashi rushed to her side even as another nurse tried to keep him away. He banged a few times on the door then turned to Mika, “What happened? What’s going on?” 

She was focused singularly on the door handle her white knuckles were gripped around, “I caught him before he went in. I tried to stop him. I-“ her voice was quiet and full of regret. 

“He realized it was over,” Akaashi said with no inflection. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried banging on the door again, “Kuroo, please, we can talk about this, everything will be okay! Just let us in!”

She continued talking, but in a softer voice, “I never thought he’d be capable of something like this, how- I don’t understand.”

The lights felt very bright and hot all of a sudden, then dimmed to a glow. As though the breaker were trying to control an electrical surge. _Bokuto_. 

Akaashi tried again, this time pushing Mika to the side like she was nothing. “Bokuto!” He shouted. He should have known he’d follow him here. Follow Kuroo, follow that desire for justice. He had to get inside that room. Before Bokuto did something irreparable. 

To both Kuroo, and his own soul. 

He ignores Mika’s wide eyes, ignores her shout asking where security is, he bangs again, “Bokuto, please! Don’t do this! _Bokuto-san_!”

**_Click._ **

He was already holding the handle against the lock and his entire weight fell into the sudden momentum. As he caught his balance, the door swung shut in Mika’s face. 

He took a deep breath and assessed the room. Kuroo, the tall, confident man he’d met numerous times over the past few weeks was cowering in a corner between the bed and the vitals monitor. Akaashi steeled himself as he turned his attention to the bed. A gaunt Bokuto, a shadow of the man he’d come to know over the past month. But he couldn’t focus on that for long, as the crackling in the air grew stronger and heavier. 

Almost hovering in the center of the room, glaring at Kuroo’s cowering figure- if glaring was something soulless black eyes were capable of doing- was a second Bokuto. 

What remained of the Bokuto Akaashi knew. Potentially. 

He was pure fury. The electricity around him dancing like the troupe ballerinas in The Nutcracker his grandmother dragged him to see every year at the Orpheum. He could almost hear the waltz of the flowers as Bokuto raised his arms towards Kuroo. Akaashi stood between them, a reckless idiotic move that his grandmother would have smacked him for with a wooden spoon for. But he did it anyway, “Bokuto, you have to stop.”

With a voice barely recognizable, more cackle and impression than words, he replied, “He did this to me. My best friend, my only friend from home. I trusted him, above everyone else, I _trusted_ him.”

“And he betrayed that, I know, Bokuto-san. But what you’re doing now. This isn’t the way to get revenge.” He tried to keep his voice calm, but the nerves rattled it and he was ashamed of how wobbled it sounded across his tongue. 

“He needs to pay-“

“He will!”

“NO!” Bokuto swung his arm out and the monitor went black. Akaashi could hear the emergency alert sounding in the room. The one that would have alerted the nurses to trouble in room 213, had they not already been outside. “He did this to me. _I deserve to know why!”_ He took a step closer or at least something like a step. Akaashi held onto it as further proof he wasn’t lost yet. A poltergeist would have glided, realizing he had control of the elements and of illusion. But Bokuto had lifted one leg and then another. 

“I can help you get that,” He gasped, his arms reaching forward to try to cling to this incorporeal man, only to realize he was still too far away. “I’ll help you get whatever you need,” he rasped out. Desperation taking hold. 

Bokuto seemed to consider him, “He’s gotten away with it so far,” the cackling began to cease. 

“I know because no one knew.” His voice lowered even more as he took a step towards Bokuto, “But I know now. And because of that, everyone outside this room knows, too.” Akaashi heard a sobbing gasp from the corner but ignored it. He was so close. “Bokuto, you’ll be safe.” He walked next to the bed and looked down for the briefest moment, “I’ll protect you,” he said, his voice stronger and more sure than it had been all evening. 

Bokuto took a step closer to the bed, “I look so weak. I look-“ he gulped. Something a poltergeist had no reason to do, even though his eyes were still that solid black. “I look dead,” he finally whispered. 

Akaashi gave a small, almost relieved sigh, “but you’re not. You have a chance. But you have to be willing to take it.” He reached his hand down and grabbed the lifeless palm of the comatose Bokuto, then reached his hand towards the spirit. “Let me help you take it.”

Bokuto reached a tentative hand towards the body in the bed. 

The elbow around his neck was a shock so sudden he felt his entire mind shift at trying to explain why his air supply was suddenly gone. Had Bokuto gotten angry at what he’d said? Had the power Bokuto been giving off finally reached too much? 

No. He felt the tip of a syringe against his throat. “I’m not- I’m not a monster!” Kuroo had apparently gotten a second wind at the possibility of Bokuto waking up, ruining his plans to get away with murder. 

Akaashi could hardly breathe. Kuroo needed to be calmed down. Bokuto’s humanity was slowly draining out again. Bokuto needed to be calmed down. And Akaashi had an arm cutting off his air supply. 

“Let him go,” that electric _impression_ more so than a voice skittered across their minds. 

Kuroo sobbed, Akaashi felt dampness dripping onto his shoulder where Kuroo’s sharp chin was trying to hold leverage. “I didn’t- I didn't want this, Bo.” He whimpered. Bokuto glid forward. “I just- Yachi was so happy. She thought I’d made the team. The recruiter said if you hadn’t been there, I would have. It seemed so simple. She started talking about plans to move up north, and she was looking at houses. Shit- we were talking about kids. And getting married, It was all falling into place except-“

“ _Except you lied!”_ skipped across their consciousness. Which was quickly being lost by Akaashi. 

“You don't understand! She’d leave me if she knew! What did I have to offer her? She got an offer for after graduation. Our goals, all of our plans were falling into place. But then-” he broke off with a bitter laugh, “You ruined it. One of my best friends. And you _ruined it all_ . I was going to lose _everything!_ ” The arm tightened and Akaashi could feel the needle pressing into his neck. His vision began to fade around the edges like an old silent film changing scenes. 

Bokuto let out a feral growl, something inhuman, incorporeal, and otherworldly. The pressure against his throat was gone and the air that rushed into his lungs was painful. He began coughing, so strongly and violently he felt he was going to throw up. He was kneeling on the floor as Bokuto walked past him. Akaashi thought he was going to stride towards Kuroo and finish the job. He looked across the room to see a dent in the wall, and Kuroo slumped against the floor. Head lolling as he tried to regain control. Blood was stained against the wall and dripping down his forehead. 

But then Bokuto stopped. He took a step in front of Akaashi. He didn’t move towards Kuroo. Akaashi reached up and gripped the side of the bed with both hands, using his arms to pull himself up. Shakily, he was able to splay his upper body across the bed. He could feel the energy grow again and began to become terrified that Bokuto would be unable to focus that energy on Kuroo alone. That every other living body in the room, at least if not further, would be obliterated by the force of whatever Bokuto would do.

And then there really would be no saving Bokuto. And also no saving anyone else from him. 

He lifted his head and saw the gaunt, pale-faced man lying in the hospital bed. Wires and tubes, scanners, and monitors. A living experiment outside of a test-tube. And the only hope Akaashi had. 

He turned his body towards his protector and felt the movement before he became aware he was making it. He threw his body against Bokuto and was shocked when it didn’t slip through, as it should have. _Maybe there was more magic to him than just being a ghost_ , Akaashi thought widely as he used the surprising momentum to swing them around. Then he pushed them forward onto the bed. 

And he landed with enough sudden force that it threw him back down to the floor. 

Bokuto’s soul was gone. He heard the door open, he felt the air calm, he heard the gasping breath of the once lifeless body as eyelids fluttered open. He laughed, then his head hit the floor. 

Knowing Kuroo would pay for what he’d done- all of it: The faked research results, the stolen controlled substance, the attempted murder- both of them. It was a salve over a burning, infected wound. Kuroo wouldn’t be paying for the damages to his shop- that he had inadvertently caused by trying to murder his best friend. He wouldn’t pay for Bokuto’s confused blinks and uncomfortable smile as Akaashi glowed at him in the hospital bed. Bokuto was alive, he was awake. The doctors anticipated little long term problems. He’d even be able to return to volleyball following some physical therapy. 

His memory also seemed to be completely intact. The night of the party, childhood memories, his mastery of both Japanese and English, all of it totally as it should be. 

Except that the night of the party was the _last_ thing he remembered. Those months of thinking his house was haunted, of living in some kind of pocket dimension, of meeting Keiji, of the flirting, and invitations, and deep conversation about believing him and the trust they’d established. All of it. 

Was gone. 

And from what Akaashi knew of spirits, he very much doubted it would ever return. 

Three months after the ordeal. Kuroo's bail was set and a court date began to inch closer. After he’d heard from Mika about Hitoka’s complete breakdown and Bokuto’s almost miraculous advancement through his physical therapy program. After he’d finally gotten insurance checks and began gutting his shop. He finally was able to start putting it back together again. But it would be a slow process. If his grandmother could rebuild after Katrina, he could rebuild after a poltergeist. 

The bell above the door jingled pleasantly. “Take a look around, let me know if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder as he finished hanging the last of the masks he sold for a local artist. Thankfully only two had been destroyed. Two that Akaashi had conveniently never thought would sell anyway. 

He couldn’t hear the typical rustling through the offered items and assumed it must be locals looking for help. He took a deep breath, preparing to turn them away, to offer the card of another practitioner who could help them. Who would be more than happy for the increase in clientele while Akaashi recovered both mentally and physically. 

He turned around with a smile. Which quickly dropped. 

Waiting patiently in the golden mid-morning light as it drifted through the windows, was a small blonde with dark circles under her eyes and a large man. With the air of a child, but a body made for sin. 

Akaashi almost fell off the small step stool but managed to make it look like an intentional jump to the floor. “Hitoka,” he broached gently.

She gave a small smile, opened her mouth a few times before gesturing behind her. Bokuto had become enraptured with a small potted Mugwort. Akaashi realized it was the same one he’d been eyeing when Akaashi had first stepped out the back of the shop, following the pull of something _kin._ That pull was back, he realized. Hidden under the chaos of his shop as items mingled and mixed in ways they shouldn’t. 

Just as Akaashi never should have mixed and mingled. Maybe then this stabbing in his chest wouldn’t be so profound. 

“Kou-Kun is having nightmares.” Hitoka offered when Akaashi didn’t say anything. 

Bokuto, realizing he was being talked about, turned back into the conversation. His brow wrinkled and he said, “You were in the hospital when I woke up.” Akaashi swallowed and nodded. He knew nothing would pass across his lips even if he tried. Bokuto smiled wide, “I heard you were the one who… helped.” His smile dropped a little but remained mostly in place. Akaashi nodded again. 

Hitoka’s eyes darted between the two of them and then she took a step forward, “Kou keeps having _memories_. Things that don’t add up. We were hoping you could help him out.”

And despite the pain in her eyes, in her smile, in the slump of her shoulders, and in her entire aura. There was kindness. Forgiveness almost and hope. 

Bokuto burst forward and exclaimed, “I’ve never been one for…” he mulled over some words before settling on “ _traditional_ fixes. But Yachan says you could help me figure out why my brain is so confused.” He tilted his head, “but… how?”

Akaashi shrugged, no hint of modesty as he channeled one of the first things Bokuto ever said to him, “I’m pretty good at it.”

  
  



End file.
